The Difference
by fhsanon
Summary: leah imprints. but the dood doesn't notice her so much. and she doesn't know what to do b/c doods hate her b/c everyone thinks she's a harpy. except i want some motherfucking triumph and romance for leah. oh yeah and i want the dood to be an OC
1. Chapter 1

Leah went through sports bras the way most girls went through tampons.

The boys had simpler needs; Emily bought stacks of mesh shorts and left them in neat piles next to the baked goods. Sweet, scarred, stupid Emily. She offered to buy the bras, of course, saying it would be no trouble at all. But some things Leah just needed to keep for herself.

After Jake fell in love with the newborn, the leeches bought him a Volvo with a baby seat in the back. Creepy as fuck, if you asked Leah, but no one ever did. She was left with the Rabbit, thick with his smell and his history. Everything on the rez was damp with history, clingy and unpleasant and so goddamn constant. So unlike Walmart.

Lit by a thousand sputtering florescents, Walmart was the easiest part of Leah's life. It was clean. It was organized. It did not judge her bimonthly purchase of a dozen sports bras. And if the Port Angeles branch failed her in any way, there was another just up the 101 in Sequim.

She was not one for pretty underthings, particularly when they were just torn to pieces, or left mildewing beneath the evergreens. Into her jaunty blue basket went four Fruit of the Loom three-packs, a Cherry Coke for the ride home, and a Hostess cupcake. She would save that for an evening at Sam and Emily's--there was some small pleasure in Emily's face as Leah rejected her homemade banana muffins in favor of processed chocolatey goodness. And what was Leah good for, if not the occasional cringe?

She placed her items on the conveyor belt, idly examining the different gum options. Her eyes swept across the colorful packaging, slid upwards, and snagged, a sweater on a bent nail. Shaggy brown hair. Silver hoop through one ear. Big nose, long neck, blue smock. A nametag: _Walmart. Kyle. Our people make the difference!_ And indeed, in that moment, he did.


	2. Chapter 2

The drive home was awful. She stopped for gas in Forks and only realized after pulling out that she had subconsciously turned herself back east. Back towards Kyle. Kyle. She jerked the wheel harshly, making a tight, angry U-turn and steering the Rabbit back to where she was supposed to be. Her mind was not so easily rerouted.

_I should be with him. I need to be with him._

It was all she could think. The desire was both immediate and permanent. _You'll understand when it happens to you_, Jake used to say. _Your whole world will change. _Most of the pack thought she would never imprint--she was a genetic dead end; there was no biological imperative--but Jacob remained perpetually optimistic. Now, as she shoved the gearshift into park, her hands settled over her womb. _What if he wants kids? What if he wants a normal girl? _She jerked open the car door in horror. Normal Leah tried not to even think of herself as a "girl" at all. But this, she supposed, was the new normal.

"Walmart again? What is it with you and that place?" Seth barely glanced up from the TV. "You're on tonight. And Embry'll kill you if you try to get out of it again. He said he's had enough of your girly bullshit." Fuck. She had been avoiding patrol since she tore through her last bra the previous weekend.

"Tell him I'll be out there." She was out the door again before Seth could respond, barely clearing the forest's edge before she was out of her clothes and running as fast as her paws could carry her.

It took all her strength not to sprint straight back to Port Angeles. It was like denying a basic physical need, swallowing a hiccup or ignoring an empty stomach. She ran in tight circles, barking a laugh at the thought of a dog on a chain, forever trapped in the same backyard. She had been trying to escape her own backyard her whole life, and now, this. But she couldn't even be upset about it. Despite all the tumult, she felt fundamentally settled, if in a wholly unsettling way.

She felt Embry phase, and braced for the impact. _What the fuck is--oh. OH. Holy shit!_ His thoughts blurred then, cycling through confusion, disbelief, and envy before addressing her directly.

_I'm happy for you, L. And I hope the poor bastard knows what's coming..._


	3. Chapter 3

By the next morning, they all knew. Seth was banging down her door at eleven, when she had hardly slept at all. _Parker_, he said. _Kyle Parker._ Because of course Jacob knew, and that meant _they_ knew, and if there was one power they lacked, it was restraint. They knew better than to come to her themselves, but it didn't stop them from learning his last name (Parker), where he lived (split-level in Port Angeles with his mother and younger sister), and his life story (Wal-Mart cashier by day, community college student by night. Smart, a little shy. Likes classic rock and hash browns). In the shower, she digested each morsel of information with disturbing care. _I bet he's a great brother. I bet he stayed close to home to look after them. I'll go to see him today. I have to see him today. _She dried her hair vigorously, wrapped herself in determination as tightly as her towel.

"Leah."

Fuck. Fuuuuck. Fuck.

"What the fuck, Em? I'm naked!" It was, at the moment, the most salient piece of information she had.

"Yeah, I---I can leave." Emily looked so pathetically hopeful, hands swallowed by Sam's sweatshirt sleeves. "I just…I heard."

Leah winced. "Okay?" She didn't have time for this. The shroud of certainty was evaporating like the morning's fog, and she needed to keep her momentum.

"I wanted…if you want to talk about it? I thought maybe, now—"

"That things would be different? That I now would _understand? _That this makes everything okay?"

"Lee-"

She bristled at Emily's affection. "No, Em. It's not okay. This is about as natural as a fucking _earthquake."_ To Leah's absolute horror, her voice cracked. "I—fuck. I loved Sam. We fell in love. We grew up together, we had history. It made sense. We made a choice." She was acutely aware of her heaving chest, shaking knees left bare by the too-small towel, and the single tear that escaped as she furiously blinked. "You—you took that choice from him. And now I guess I'm out of choices too." Jamming the heels of her hands into her eyes, she continued. "Fuck, Em. He doesn't even know my name."

Emily rose from the bed then, approaching her like a wounded but still-dangerous animal. "Oh, Leah."

"Don't. Not now. I can't—it's too much. Please don't." Emily flinched as if she'd been hit, but relented. "Please just—not right now. Please go."

Leah could hardly stand to look at her. Emily's eyes were bright and tear-filled. As she opened the door, she turned. "You know where to find me, if you ever—if you change your mind."

And then she was gone, and Leah shed the towel, pulled her knees to her chest, and cried.


	4. Chapter 4

The drive east to WalMart was the easiest thing she had done since laying eyes on him. The inner turmoil was ever-present, but the _rightness_ of this decision was enough, and the Rabbit seemed to steer itself up the 101 and into the parking lot.

As the sliding doors opened and welcomed her back, she felt the same absolute, marrow-deep comfort overtake her. He was there, in lane eight, hair slightly cleaner but wearing the same bored expression. She took her place in his line without a second thought.

"I can help you over here, honey." _No, you really can't._ She turned venomously towards the voice, emanating from the bottle-blonde working register seven, and gave her a single, decisive headshake. The woman looked away immediately. _At least I've still got that_. And then the girl buying a thousand diapers was done, and suddenly Leah was in front of him again. He had an awfully nice face.

"Kyle."

His head shot up, and his eyes scanned her once before glancing at his nametag. "I'm sorry, do I—"

"Leah."

"Leah, right. Do we…have we met? I'm sorry, I'm not great with faces."

"No. I mean, just—I've seen you before." Oh, _God. _"Here, I mean."

"Right, okay. Can I—" He glanced at the empty conveyor belt. "Did you, um....need something?"

"Oh! Oh, uh—" An older man began unloading his cart behind her. "Doyouwanttogetacoffee?" It was the kind of thing she heard other people, normal people, say all the time, but it might as well have been Farsi, foreign as it was to Leah's tongue.

"Uh." Kyle's expression matched her uncertainty. "I just started a six hour shift."

"Oh!" _Shit. _"Then I guess I'll just see you around?"

He laughed then, a low, resonant sound. Leah found her face contorted into the sort of smile she hadn't smiled in a long, long time. "See you around the Walmart?"

"Yeah." She couldn't keep the pleasure out of her voice, even at this most miniscule of victories. "Something like that."


	5. Chapter 5

The calm that came with his nearness only served to exacerbate the internal chaos that immediately followed their separation. '_See you around the Walmart'_? _Strike up a conversation in front of the mens' undershirts? Seduce him somewhere between tampons and Tupperware? _She slammed her head against the steering wheel, roughly turning the key in the ignition and fighting every urge that demanded she go back through the sliding doors, back to him. He was breathtaking when he smiled, and it made Leah want things she wasn't accustomed to wanting. X-rated thoughts ran on a near-constant loop through the boys' minds—one of the many problems with being perpetually post-pubescent—but Leah had learned to tune them out. Her thoughts towards Kyle were hardly so explicit, but the idea of physical contact with him was…intoxicating.

_Fuck_. She slammed on the brakes and only narrowly avoided colliding with the stopped car in front of her. _What have I become? _ The first transformation had been horrifying enough, but at least her fundamental _self_ had remained basically the same. With this new upheaval, the fabric of her identity had torn away as easily as the cheap sports bras.

At home, Jacob was waiting on her porch. He slapped the hood of the Rabbit appreciatively "How's she running these days?" He smelled like too much cotton candy.

"Fine, I guess."

"Same can't be said of you, huh?" Jake smirked.

"Fuck off. I don't need this from you too."

"C'mon." He gestured towards the beach and gently tugged her sleeve. "You went to see him?"

She sighed. "Yeah. It was stupid. He shot me down"

"Ouch."

"Thanks for the sympathy." She kicked a rock. "I thought this was supposed to be easy. Like once it happened, it all just...happened."

Jake actually had the nerve to laugh. "It's never easy, Lee. But you don't need to make it harder on yourself."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"He might be the perfect guy, but he's still a _guy_. Guys are very, ah…visually stimulated."

"Jesus, Jake!"

"I'm just saying. You need to get his attention before you can tell him he's your soulmate. And it wouldn't hurt if you smiled while doing it."

"Fuck you, Jake. I thought you would get it, but you don't understand shit." Leah turned to run, but he caught her wrist.

"You can't phase every time something doesn't go your way. You have to grow up a little, L."

"Have you forgotten?" Leah spat. "I can't." She shook off his hand and sprinted past him, bounding into the endless darkness


	6. Chapter 6

_Grow up. _It was afternoon, and Leah was mercifully alone with her thoughts. _Grow up._ What the hell was that supposed to mean? Leah When had she ever not been a grown-up? When her boyfriend became a monster overnight and then left her for her cousin? When she and her little brother both became fucking werewolves in the span of a few weeks? When her father died? When her mother started shacking up with the police chief in the next town over? When she fought off a clan of angry vampires on behalf of a stupid baby?

She was deep into the park by the time she stopped running _Grow up. _She couldn't evict Jake from her head, no matter the distance she put between them. His critical gaze, assessing her track pants and t-shirt. His fucking laugh. _Would he want me in something different? Would he like me more in a miniskirt? _For all her thoughts of him, she hadn't given much consideration to what he might want, beyond _not me._ She was the tip of her own iceberg—there was so much there, just beneath the surface, if only he bothered to look. She had to smile at the appropriately destructive metaphor. But what made boys look in the first place? What would make _him_ look? _Not a miniskirt_, she decided. Destiny couldn't possibly be_ that _cruel. But what? And where was she supposed to acquire these new clothes? Her initial inclination was Walmart, but clearly that was no longer an option.

She turned back towards the coast with a sigh. Maybe growing up wasn't so much about what was forced upon you. Maybe it was about the choices you could make, limited though they were. The salty stench of ocean hit her all too quickly, and she collected her swiftly shed clothing at the treeline. She would never be ready for this. Her hand was clenched into a fist long before she raised it to knock on Sam and Emily's door,


	7. Chapter 7

And so it came to pass that, five days after the initial incident, Leah Clearwater made her third trip to Walmart. She fidgeted uncomfortably in her new clothes, and a hand shot over from the passenger side to still her bouncing knee. Emily had been maddeningly patient. Leah wasn't ready to grapple with a concept like forgiveness, and Emily knew better than to ask. But perhaps this was her way of seeking redemption. She normally went to the Costco in Sequim for groceries, but without prompting, she suggested that perhaps the Walmart would offer a better selection. With equal ease, she offered Leah several sweaters and a pair of jeans. _They never fit me quite right, _she said._ You should try them._

But Leah was sure they didn't fit her quite right either. And taking Emily with her suddenly felt like a massive mistake. How had this not occurred to her? Even with the scars, Emily was prettier. And she was certainly nicer. And she knew how to cook, and darn sweaters. Leah ate Hot Pockets and held her life together with duct tape and safety pins.

As they pulled into a parking spot, Leah spoke for the first time since leaving La Push.

"I think you should stay in the car."

"Leah-"

"I don't want him to see you!" It came out more sharply than even she expected.

"Oh." And the apologetic, sorrowful look she always gave Leah was back full force. "I'll be out here, then."

"I just…I need to do this—this part—alone." Leah was already out of the car. His nearness was frighteningly palpable now, and the need to see him overrode the (admittedly minor) need to soothe her cousin. "I won't be too long," she promised, remembering the last encounter with a cringe.

He wasn't at register eight. He wasn't visible anywhere, and Leah gnawed at her lip in frustration. Going on instinct, she headed for the groceries, and found him stocking canned soup. He glanced up as she approached.

"Hey…Leah!" _God,_ his smile! "Y'know, we are hiring. You seem to be here enough. Might as well don the smock." He plucked at the polyester with a self-effacing grin. _Work here. I could see him every day. _But those thoughts were quickly dispelled—the mythical creature thing sort of made her imminently unemployable. Leah had to laugh.

"No, thanks. I'd be an awful employee. I have kind of a short fuse."

He laughed. "Yeah, that might not go over so well. Some of the customers can be…difficult." _Still_ with the smile! He was a force of nature, minestrone in hand.

"No, I actually..." _Fuck, this was difficult_. "I came to see you."

He was suddenly quite fascinated by the soup, but his cheeks turned an adorable, telling pink. "Oh."

"Yeah. I, uh, wanted to see about that coffee."

"Right."

"Or whatever. I don't even drink coffee. But, y'know. About…seeing you. Preferably outside the Walmart." The words came too fast out of her mouth, all unwieldy and unexpected. But he glanced back at her with that smile, and none of it mattered.

"Give me your phone."

"What?"

"Your cell phone. So I can give you my number."

_Shit! _Telepathic misanthropes typically had little use for cell phones. "I don't have one."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Huh. Hold on." From his pocket, he produced a receipt, on which he scrawled his number. "Here. Thursdays are good for me. I get off at five."

She felt like she might actually start vibrating, or something equally horrifying. This was worse than phasing, or at least more embarrassing. "Thursday. Cool." She snatched the paper and began to back away, terrified she might otherwise try to touch his hair or something. "I'll call you. But not from my cell phone. Obviously. But I'll call you. Thank you!" _Oh, god. _

"Sounds good." He was still smiling when she turned back for one final look.


	8. Chapter 8

He had excellent handwriting, all tangled and slanty but still fully legible. Emily had to still her again on the way home, this time preventing her from mauling the thin paper beyond recognition, ceaselessly folding and unfolding. She had memorized the number almost immediately, but the paper's value far exceeded its message. It was a lifeline.

But the date was an unmitigated disaster. From the painful, fumbling phone call to the mediocre strip-mall coffeehouse, Leah still could not navigate the narrow path of _normal. _She snapped at the barista and snorted at the drink selection. _What kind of dining establishment doesn't carry Coke?_ The iced coffee she finally chose was bitter and too cold.

Casual conversation felt impossible. There was no need to get to know him—she was miserably, fundamentally bound to him for life, and learning that they disagreed on pizza toppings was hardly going to change that. Still, she liked him, or at least she thought she did. _But maybe it's just because I'm biologically programmed to feel like this. _Every time he made her smile, or smiled himself, the excruciating cycle started anew. Through everything, Leah had always at least been allowed her own emotions. But suddenly she didn't even own her feelings. It was an entirely new breed of volatility, and it was gut-wrenching. The idea of exchanging pleasantries while wrangling a now-permanent identity crisis was too much. And though the ice slowly melted and diluted her coffee, Leah's bitterness only increased. By the time they parted ways, she barely had the nerve to ask if she could call him sometime.

The drive home had never felt more like punishment.


	9. Chapter 9

There was no one left to talk to, but it's not like Leah wanted to talk anyways. She needed to turn it all off: thoughts, speech, even movement felt painfully pointless. This was once best achieved by phasing: in wolf form, everything became more primal, and she could run so fast and bite so hard that even the worst thoughts couldn't catch her. Imprinting was the bear trap she never saw coming. Now everything was raw and tender to the touch, every arduously gained foothold of self-assurance crumbling at the first whisper of doubt. And though the boys tried to help, their more private thoughts were equally discouraging. It was the same as ever: _how could anyone ever fall for Leah? _She deserved it, she knew. And it had never mattered, because how could Leah ever fall for anyone either? Falling was not in her nature. Until she did.

Now, she was flat on her back, in bed. The hazy late afternoon sun trickled in to reveal a dusty, cluttered space void of any personal touches. Other than the sports bras (three unopened packs remained in the Walmart bag on her dresser), there was no sign a female inhabited this room at all. She tried to imagine Kyle here and winced. The room, the house, this place made her restless. It smelled of mildew and Seth's sweat and, still, her father's cigarettes, which he used to smoke late at night on the porch. She pushed the window open wider and climbed out, suddenly desperate to get away.

She always thought the ocean was most beautiful in stormy weather, beating its whitecapped fists ceaselessly against the cliffs. The beach was too calm today, the sea a disinterested grey, waves lapping tamely up onto the sand. She studied the driftwood and the sea glass, cobalt blue and emerald city green. Could she be as strong without her sharp edges? Would he only like a girl he could hold easily in the palm of his hand, beautiful but harmless? She raised her arm to hurl them back into the sea, but instead thrust them into her pocket and started up the cliffs towards home.


	10. Chapter 10

The Clearwater house hadn't seen much domesticity lately. Since Sue's all-but official relocation to Forks, the shelves had gone undusted, sheets unwashed. The kitchen was almost totally untouched. The whole house felt underloved—not abandoned, but never anyone's priority anymore. So Leah made it hers.

She cleaned in a near frenzy. The closed doors stayed that way—she could not step on the countless emotional landmines of her parents' room, nor invade the singular sanctuary of Seth's. They had so little privacy as it was; he deserved at least that. She wore rubber gloves and a bandana in her hair, scrubbing furiously at stubborn stains and working tirelessly as the sky grew dark. What began as thoughtless humming transformed, as she worked from kitchen to living room, into full-on belting. She sang the Bob Marley songs Harry used to love, tossing her head back and forth as she tossed out relics from past lives— a seventh grade report card, notes from a tribal council meeting, a dozen fish recipes clipped from various publications.

Her room was the hardest. Beneath the layer of meaningless crap, her own landmines lurked. She unearthed a small collection of college brochures, accumulated when leaving home was still an option. The invitation to Emily's 15th birthday—_It's a slumber party!! _Emily had drawn little hearts around the border of the card. And a photo, corners curled, of Leah and Sam at a bonfire. It must have been freshman year—Sam was still so young, slight in a way she had almost forgotten teenage boys could be. His arm was casually slung around her shoulders, and she was leaning in to him, half asleep. Seeing it still hurt. It might always hurt. But it was no longer that acute, knife-between-the-ribs pain. It was the dull, thumping ache of a bruise. Kyle would never replace Sam. But she knew now that Sam could also never replace Kyle. And just as sorrow once begat spite, healing bore unto Leah something unfamiliar: hope.

Sometime after midnight, she set the beach glass on her freshly dusted dresser, removed the rubber gloves, and slid into bed. And beneath the hazy half-moon, in a clean house where her thoughts were, if only for tonight, hers alone, she allowed herself to dream.


	11. Chapter 11

The day dawned disarmingly clear, direct sunlight sending people across the peninsula scrambling for rarely-used sunglasses. Leah awoke to rays glinting off the beach glass, her now neat room almost a mockery of her endlessly cluttered mind. In a carved wooden box on her dresser sat what was, pathetically, her most prized possession: the slip of paper with his phone number. She reread it mostly as an affirmation—he had given this to her. He had made a choice to pursue further communication. He wanted her, or he had, before the unnatural disaster of a date. It was time for her to make a choice as well.

Picking up the phone bred some strange combination of terror and total satisfaction. It only rang twice before he picked up, and she realized too late she had no idea what to say.

"Kyle." _Right. Stellar greeting. _"Hey. It's Leah. From the other day. And Walmart." _Leah from Walmart. Great._

"Leah. Hey." He sounded tired.

"Oh god. Did I wake you up? I'm really sorry. I can call you back. I didn't mean to—I'm really sorry." _How do other people _do _this? _

"No, it's fine. I'm just on my way in to work." 

"Oh, okay. Cool." _Cool? Ugh. _"Um, I was just thinking that we should get together again. Soon. If you want, I mean. It could be fun." _Or it could be a start-to-finish catastrophe. Only one way to find out! _

"Really?" _What did that mean?_

"What?"

"I just…you didn't seem to have such a good time, last time." He sounded wary. He sounded all wrong. He did not sound like someone who knew his soulmate was on the other end, desperately clinging to his every word.

"I didn't." _Oh, hell. _"I mean, it wasn't you! It was just…the coffee place. I don't really like coffee. Coffee was a dumb idea. We should do something else."

"Right, no coffee." He was laughing now, at least. She wanted to curl up in that laugh like a cat in the sunshine. That laugh could sustain her. "So what did you have in mind, then?"

_Shit. _Leah didn't do much for fun. _Turn into a werewolf and carry you around on my back? Sexy. _She winced. "Um. Hiking?" _Do girls even hike? Does Kyle? _

"You hike?"

"Yeah. Sometimes. A little." _I run in circles. In the forest. On four legs. Which is sort of like hiking?_

"Cool." _Oh! It sounded so nice when _he_ said it. _"There are some good trails off the 101. By Lake Crescent, maybe?"

"That sounds perfect." And it really, really did.

They agreed to meet at a trailhead near the lake later that week, and she hung up the phone in utter shock.

The coffee shop had always been the wrong choice--she already spent her whole life constrained by barriers beyond her control. That Port Angeles strip mall was just one more set of walls, one more place where she wasn't allowed to choose—even if it was just a Coke. Maybe hiking could be different. Maybe the skies would stay this clear, and the sun would shine, and he could see through all her clouds to Good Leah. Real Leah. The Leah that had once been worthy of love. And in the summer sunshine, hope unfurled and stretched its tiny fingers up, roots creeping down into the cracks in her armor and securing a small but certain hold. Leah turned her face towards the sunshine and finally let herself breathe.


	12. Chapter 12

Thursday dawned foggy and cool. Everyone on the rez knew about the date—if that's what it even was—and several of the boys made a point to stop by and give her a good-natured ribbing before her departure. Still, the sight of Jake in the doorway surprised her. They had hardly talked since that day on the beach.

"Hey."

"Hey. You nervous?"

"Yeah." _No point in lying._

"Yeah. It's pretty fucked, isn't it?" He was smiling slightly, finally welcoming her to some cosmic inside joke. "Doing it all ass-backwards?"

She couldn't help but smile too. _Maybe he does get it._ "It really, really is."

"But hey, at least he's not…"

"The bloodsucking lovechild of my former flame and her frozen husband?"

Jake barked out a laugh. "Clearly you don't need my 'just be yourself' speech."

Leah shrugged "Who else could I be?"

"I gotta say, I can't think of anyone who would quite compare." Jake was grinning widely now.

"Shut up. I'll choose to take that as a compliment."

"It was. You'll be great today." He squeezed her shoulder. "Relax."

She nodded. _Easier said than done. _"I'll try. Now get out of here. I'm gonna be late."

"Can't have that." His eyes turned suddenly serious. "You deserve to be happy, L. Don't forget it."

She rolled her eyes, but turned to conceal her flushed cheeks. "Thanks, Jake."

He tapped the doorframe once on his way out.

As it turned out, they were both early. The synchronous arrivals sparked some tentative, delicate harmony between them, both effortless and exhausting to maintain. The ascent was sometimes rocky, filled with stumbles and strained silences. But at the top he quietly slid her a Cherry Coke, and she smiled a smile she thought might break her face, and something slid neatly into place. Perhaps it was just the laws of physics, but the hike down the mountain felt much, much less difficult.


	13. Chapter 13

Leah was once a stranger to joy. She had thought it much like handstands—sustainable for a few seconds, probably headache-inducing after that. But the past month had been less headache and more lightheaded—in her happiness, she had become some lighter, brighter facsimile of herself. And somehow, it was okay. As August bled into September, their outings expanded to include movies, dinners, and even a bonfire in La Push. But it was back on the trail, lips stained dark with late summer berries, that he finally kissed her.

She was still the fastest runner in the pack, even if she now scheduled patrol to coincide with his night classes. She still wore sports bras most days, and bickered with the boys, and slept until noon. And she was still a fallow, shapeshifting teenage girl, cynical but smitten. She would always be a werewolf. But if Kyle could love her for her sharp mind (and equally sharp tongue), then maybe he could love her sharp teeth as well. She, in turn, could love his quiet strength, his easy laugh, his kindness. Each passing day revealed some new facet, so that he sparkled in her eyes like a gem. No obligation, no trick of biology had made him so precious to her. She had chosen to love him, and to let herself be loved.

And that, in the end, made all the difference.

* * *

**Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, or recommended this story. Special thanks to greeengoldfish and the members of the_gazebo, both for the initial prompt and for the tireless support. I lurk there as slow_asleep. Feel free to harass me sometime. **


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